


Solaris

by msimamizizam



Series: Bloodborne NPCs [2]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, POV Second Person, Reader is hunter, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msimamizizam/pseuds/msimamizizam
Summary: "You're a hunter, aren't you? I knew it. That's precisely how I started out!"In a small graveyard in the Cathedral Ward, a hunter finds a small sun in the long night.





	Solaris

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please let me know of any edits, formatting issues, missed tags, or any other improvements I can make, and don't forget to leave kudos and comments if you liked it!

The crooked gravestones lining the cobblestone path were placed in such a way that you found it hard to believe anyone had really been buried underneath the road. Their ashes or a favorite item, perhaps, but not a full body. However, there was someone devoutly stationed in front of the tall altar at the end, withering, ashy colored grass crushed beneath his knees as he prayed ardently enough that you might have thought someone truly was resting there.   
  
The candlelight illuminated the edges of the stone tablets and the holes in a ragged cloth covering the middle of the altar, but your eyes would have had to strain far too hard to make out a semblance of a single word, let alone a name of any kind. Perhaps it was the statue, slightly tilting from age and the fact that there wasn't really anyone around to take care of the figure anymore, that the stranger was whispering his prayers to. However, your ears would have had to strain far too much to hear anything from him, again, leaving you in the dark as to what kind of scene you'd just walked in on. Really, the whole thing was incredibly taxing on your senses.   
  
You gripped the handle of your weapon, rubbing your thumb over a patch of the wraps around it to keep time. Back and forth, waiting for a move, for the candlelight to waver just so, for the moment to strike. The sawed teeth were still dripping blood from your latest kill, staining the cobblestones below. Even this had some regularity to it, which was nice to offset the sudden silence. Even the beasts seemed to have got quiet for this one moment, hidden in a pocket of Yharnam's existence that they hadn't sunk their literal claws into yet.   
  
"You're a hunter, aren't you?"   
  
Your thumb stopped. The blood stopped. You nearly expected the flames on the candles to disappear, but they stayed just as still as the air had suddenly become. The figure stood up and turned around, smiling widely, and giving you a clear view of his clean, definitely still human face. His expression was strangely warm, and with his golden hair you were briefly reminded of the sun, even in the long night you'd found yourself in.   
  
Your hand, however, still didn't leave your weapon, and you could see the glint of the moonlight reflecting off the edge in his eyes, which had glanced down to examine what you held at your sides.   
  
"I knew it," he said, stepping forward again. "That's precisely how I started out! It's so refreshing to see a human face come around here. Hunter, what is your name? What shall I call you?"   
  
You blinked, processing, slowly, and then allowed yourself to relax. It was an improvement when someone had enough of a mind left to speak, no doubt, and you knew your exits, but the stranger still seemed rather charismatic, and you didn't have time for any spontaneous cult recruiting.   
  
"Tell me yours first," you replied as you made deadly eye contact and watched him for any sign of a change of mind about the level of enthusiasm he was deciding to exhibit. Was it a display? An act? Or perhaps real enjoyment. Someone who'd gone far too long without being able to look someone in their proper face without a muzzle in the way. Maybe that's how he'd lost the thirst for the hunt.   
  
"Oh, beg pardon. I do hope you'll forgive my forwardness," he said, with a slight bow before putting his hand on his chest. You almost swore he stood up straighter. "You may call me Alfred. Protege of Master Logarius, hunter of Vilebloods." He paused, checking over your face for any sign of recognition, before he stepped forward again and held his hand out.   
  
"What say you? We may not hunt the same prey, but we both hunt, yes? Why should we not cooperate, as hunters, and discuss the things we've learned?" You let the offer hang in the air for a second before you reached up and hesitantly shook his hand. The glove was thicker than you expected, and definitely crafted with colder weather in mind.   
  
"I'll take you up on that," you replied, allowing the shake to become a little more firm as Alfred's face was split into another wide, enthusiastic smile. The candlelight behind him almost made a halo of his golden curls, which bounced slightly as he nodded, definitely satisfied.   
  
"Oh-ho! Very good, very good indeed." Alfred mused to himself as he dug around in his pockets for a moment. He pulled out a roll of a strangely colored paper, neatly wrapped with a pure white string, then pressed it into your palm. "Take this, to celebrate our acquaintance," he insisted. You frowned, opening your mouth to find some way to politely decline, but thought better of it, especially with the odd resistance your thumb felt when it rubbed across the surface. Perhaps you'd find a use for it later.    
  
"Thank you." You kept your voice from being too flat, attempting to find the balance between your sincerity and your caution. It wasn't too late for it to be too good to be true, a simple trick in the long night. Even so, you'd appreciate this small, quiet moment in the candlelight.   
  
"I won't keep you," he said, glancing over the tops of the gravestones before returning his gaze back to you. Honestly, there wasn't much else to look at in the strange little shrine area. "You seem to be in a bit of a hurry. I'll be here if you'd ever like to find me."   
  
"Be seeing you, Alfred." You allowed yourself a nod as you bid him farewell. Alfred bowed, his smile thinning to a polite air as you began to step away, back towards the archway.   
  
"May the good blood guide your way."  
  
—   
  
As far as you could tell, Alfred did not move much from his position in front of the strange statue nestled away in that corner of the Cathedral Ward, or if he did, you were never around to catch him when he left. Whenever you came by, he was devoutly positioned underneath the figure's watch, gazing up at the strangely dressed man reverently.   
  
"There must be oodles for us to share," he greeted when he noticed you. For the first few times, you weren't sure what to share with him, as you hadn't learned much else yourself, and instead made some polite small talk. The Cathedral Ward had seemed like a vast, sprawling area at first, but every alley you went down seemed to end at the same place; the Grand Cathedral of the Healing Church. The ornate doors were open, but the six church doctors outside of it had to be guarding something- not to mention the hulking church giant pacing up and down the steps, holding an equally large and threatening bloodied axe in its bony white hands.   
  
"As you know, the Healing Church is the fountainhead of blood healing," Alfred said, when you asked. "Is this not why you found yourself in the hunt? I believe you mentioned you were a contractual hunter." You nodded, leaning against one of the many old gravestones as he continued. "I'm quite unfamiliar with the ins and outs of the institution, but I have heard that the holy medium of blood is venerated in the main cathedral."   
  
"The Grand Cathedral," you sighed, crossing your arms. "Even turned into... whatever they've become, the church doctors are still protecting it." Your shoulder still ached from a particularly hard hit. Their plain white faces and fashionable canes hid a violence you had to admit you'd been slightly unprepared for, but Alfred didn't need to know as much.   
  
"I wish you luck," Alfred said, nodding to you as you pushed yourself off the grey tomb marker and picked up your weapon. You brushed a dirt off the edge, dusted your coat off, and glanced at the blood spattered over your boots, which you couldn't do much about it.   
  
"Farewell, Alfred."   
  
"May the good blood guide your way."   
  
\--   
  
The clean white pills stood out against the bloodied palm of your glove. The soft light from the summon lamp below you glowed between your fingers as you inspected each one. You'd just found them lying around, after all. A fake pill could cost you an entire fight, and you didn't feel tired enough to dream just yet.   
  
"Only six," you mumbled to yourself, putting the pouch back on your belt. Old Yharnam had been a shit-show so far. The mini gun wasn't even the worst part, but at least the beast lover in the tower could have warned you about what it would mean to get past him. Perhaps he didn't think that far ahead, but the glow of the lamp was the signal of the end. It was a new thing, but the messengers had whispered the meaning of it to you. You were glad, for this, because you were just about done with the constant, constant poison.  
  
You looked down at one of the bandages on your leg, peeling back the edge to peer at one of the many gashes clawed into your skin. The effect of whatever the beasts there had given you seemed to have been leeched out, but you couldn't be certain you'd make it through the fight. To be honest, you were finished with the neighborhood. Mini-gun guy could have it and he could choke on it.   
  
You tied the bandage tight again, hissing when it squeezed just a little more blood out of you than was absolutely necessary. Your fingers reached into the bag strapped to your back, finding the handle of one of the bells you almost never used. You pulled it out, thumbing the straps holding the ring and the bell together. They looked frayed, but you highly doubted that the messengers would give you something flimsy, especially if you ever ended up needing it.   
  
"Alright, whoever you are," you muttered, "let's only make this a one-time thing." You held your hand out over the summon, the glow illuminating the worn, beaten metal as you rang it. The solemn sound echoed for a moment, bouncing off the trees, and then falling off into the regular ambience of fire crackling and breeze rustling the ashy, withering tufts of grass.   
  
The lamp nestled in the circle of toppled gravestones suddenly gave off an intense light before the old hunter appeared. You paused for a moment, before stepping back.   
  
"You!" You exclaimed, a little stupidly perhaps, at the not-quite-so unfamiliar assistance that had been raised up. He had said he was a hunter, after all, you supposed.   
  
"Good hunter," Alfred greeted, setting his weapon down for a moment. He started to chatter again, which you didn't find a bother at all. The area was quiet, and the only other hunter you'd seen had tried to tear holes through you. Even though he did shout something at you, his mind certainly didn't seem to hold the same level of sanity as Alfred's.   
  
"Let's go inside," you interrupted him, eyeing one of the many fires letting off a thick stream of smoke up into the dark sky. As much as you didn't mind the one-sided conversation, it was only a matter of time until something hiding behind the fires noticed the two of you. Any one of the torched beasts was enough cover to conceal a still-living one behind it.   
  
You gestured loosely to the ruined church at the bottom of the valley, which still had two torches on either side, burning faithfully despite the lack of visitors. At least it'd be some kind of shelter. Alfred's gaze traced the archway of the opening, eyeing the crumbling bricks and torn pendants, before he nodded in agreement.   
  
"Yes, of course," he said, dusting his cloak off. "Lead the way. I'm afraid much of this area is unfamiliar to me. I'm a simple hunter, but I have heard a bit concerning Old Yharnam."  
  
"I just want to get out of here," you grumble, glaring at the shadows and daring them to hide any sort of beast from you. This had to be close to the end. Perhaps a little ways further, or maybe somewhere in the church, or—   
  
Your boot caught the edge of one of the many cracked stones, scattered and forgotten. You would have been sent tumbling into the floor, if Alfred had not grabbed your collar and pulled you back to hide among the pots. You looked back at him, but he instead stared at the beast pacing back and forth in front of the altar at the end of the hall, with no further concern for you.   
  
"The infamous Blood Starved Beast, I'd wager." Alfred seemed breathless with wonder, eyes starry as he grinned. "Look at it... truly an amazing thing, don't you think?'   
  
You nodded slowly. Where he most likely saw the makings of a beautiful hunt together, you were only barely able to take in the bloody flaps of skin brushing against the floor, dirty claws scraping against the uneven stones, and the ooze of violet poison seeping out of its pools without wanting to vomit.   
  
"It doesn't look so bad," you forced out. You cringed when the beast turned a little too fast and a wave of putrid stink rolled out from between its folds, wafting over to your end of the church. Alfred held his glove over his nose, waiting for a bit of the smell to pass out of the broken windows before sliding his sword into the hammer's slot.   
  
"Beast hunting is a sacred practice," Alfred mused, glancing over at you, his fingers tapping against the handle. You nodded as you pulled out an oddly colored roll of paper by the pure white string wrapped around it.   
  
"So let the hunt begin," you grinned. Your own smirk crept its way up your face as you struck the paper against your weapon, flames licking up the edge. You glanced up at the beast, making sure to keep a sharp focus on your target as you stepped forward.  
  
"May the good blood guide our way."   
  
—   
  
"Ah, there's something I want to tell you," Alfred exclaimed when you turned the corner. "A bit of wisdom from the eminent Master Logarius!"  
  
You jumped back, instead of jumping forward, and perhaps that indecisiveness is what saved his life. You're frozen, which is an entirely new feeling, staring at Alfred's bright expression. As the silent seconds stretch into moments, you wondered how much it would have hurt for both of you if he accidentally got his throat slit for being the only person excited to see you in the godsforsaken city.   
  
"Alfred, I could have killed you," you manage to splutter once your heart returns to a normal rate. You walk towards him, grumbling a bit and crossing your arms in front of you. "You could be bleeding out right now. Be more careful, will you?"  
  
"I apologize. I didn't mean to frighten you," he sheepishly smiled. "Have I ever told you about the Vilebloods? I'd like to, if you're not busy. Have you heard of Byrgenwerth?"   
  
"The college?" You frowned and then nodded. You'd heard someone mention it before, and you were certain you'd at least read about it. Everything considered sacred in Yharnam could be traced back to it, but the Healing Church had decreed it forbidden ground before you'd ever arrived at the city. You didn't see what need there was for a college, anyways, since there weren't many humans left to even get an education.   
  
"Yes, yes. You know, Byrgenwerth seems to have been the start of everything going on in Yharnam," Alfred noted. "Once, a scholar betrayed his fellows at Byrgenwerth and brought forbidden blood back with him to Cainhurst Castle, and it was there that the first of the inhuman Vilebloods was born."  
  
"The Vilebloods," you sounded out slowly, before making a sort of face, despite yourself. "You mention them quiet a bit, but you've never told me much about them."  
  
"You will see that I am trying to," Alfred smiled, his eyes glinting in the light of the lamp on your belt. You huffed, but let Alfred continued without any further input. "The Vilebloods are fiendish creatures who threaten the purity of the Church's blood healing, hence their name. In his time, Master Logarius led his executioners into Cainhurst Castle to cleanse it of the Vilebloods."  
  
Your lips parted, and a response danced on the edge of your tongue, but the crestfallen look on Alfred's face stalled your willingness to interrupt.   
  
"But all did not go well and Master Logarius became a blessed anchor, guarding us from evil...." Alfred trailed off and shook his head, sighing wistfully. "Tragic, tragic times, that Master Logarius should be abandoned in the accursed domain of the Vilebloods."   
  
Alfred paused, looking up at the moon. It stood out brightly since the sky had grown darker, and from where you two were standing you could see it clearly. The slowly drifting clouds avoided crossing over the path of the beams, letting the white light fall unobstructed over the shell of the city.   
  
"The Ruler of the Vilebloods is still alive today," Alfred spoke up again, his voice breaking the silence in a not unpleasant way. Both of your faces were still turned up toward the moon, watching it even is it did not, and would not move. "And so, to honor my master's wishes, I search, for the path to Cainhurst Castle. I must free him, so that he may be properly honored in martyrdom."  
  
"Where is it? Do you know?" Your voice was quieter than normal, trying to meet with Alfred's solemn tone, feeling his sorrow and disgust in your own soul. Alfred turned away and shrugging, grimacing at his uselessness.   
  
"If I had located the castle, it's possible we would not have met," Alfred said, not unkindly. "I'm glad for your company, good hunter, but I wish I did know where that vile place was, so I could fulfill my purpose." He looked down at his hands, then turned away from you, gazing at the moon, and where his strange statue would have been, had he not left his shrine.   
  
"I'll let you know if I find anything," you swore to him, slowly walking past him, watching his face. Although, this time, not for a threat, at least. You frowned at his silence, then turned away from him, barely hearing the echo as he called the same mantra after you:  
  
"May the good blood guide your way."   
  
\--   
  
For an embarrassing moment, you mistook the marble statues lining the walls of the throne room for actual nobles and accidentally swung your weapon at the nearest, intending to behead another hostile noble, but you just sent it toppling to the floor. You jumped back, a smoothly sculpted nose landing near your boot, but the rest of the statue joined the many others that had fallen to the floor and broken, however many years ago. Glancing around briefly, you toed the piece and the dust surrounding it off the ornately crafted red carpet that stretched the length of the room.   
  
Candles lined the edge of the carpet as the statues clung to the walls, the lord and ladies of long ago watching you with blank eyes as you slowly stepped towards the two thrones elevated at the end of the hall. At least, you were sure it was long enough for you to be able to refer it as a "hall," and even so, anyone who might have even cared about the proper terminology was long dead now.   
  
This was it. You'd done it. The Ruler of the Vilebloods, in all her sickly pale glory, was still seated on her throne, even all these years later. The mask she was wearing had a rich velvet ribbon wrapped around the eyes, but her face was turning towards you the closer you got. A circle of candles was at her feet, and you stood in front of it for a second, just on the edge, teetering closer to be right in front of her. You weren't sure what to do, and somehow you felt that she was waiting for something from you, but not just yet.   
  
You looked around the room again, taking in the hanging tapestries, some faded from the light coming by way of a tall stained glass window behind the thrones. You looked over, past the statues, and then to another row of chiseled royalty, set back from the rest. You glanced back at the queen, who was still silent and patiently waiting for whatever move you'd make, and only when you were sure she wouldn't spring out at you was when you felt safe enough to turn away.   
  
There was a table. You didn't think throne rooms had tables, though, you weren't honestly sure why they wouldn't. You walked over and traced your gloves along the surface. An empty chair stood proudly behind it, and you knew the wood of the seat itself would be cold, having been unsat in for centuries. In the middle, a brown envelope, stained with age, was left behind, with an unbroken purple seal keeping its contents unknown to all except you, who'd received one almost exactly like it. The backside was unaddressed, but the seal was unmistakable, reflecting what was on the many tapestries around you; two regal lions, standing with their backs to each other. You had a good feeling of what would be inside, and though you were loathe to leave the warmth of the well-lit throne room, you had a message to deliver.   
  
You found yourself hoping the good blood would guide your way.   
  
—   
  
"Ah-hah! Is that... the sigil of Cainhurst?" Alfred grabbed the envelope from your hands before you'd even been able to fully offer the summons to him. He examined the blank backside for barely a second before cracking the seal and pulling the weathered pages out. You watched his eyes scan the looping script, reading by the light of the moon, nose crinkling as he snickered to himself.   
  
"I've heard tell of Cainhurst nobles, and their amusingly pompous invitations," Alfred barked out with a laugh before stuffing the paper back into the envelope. "Wonderful! I thank you profusely, my friend. I will depart immediately. But first, a token of my gratitude." He dug around in his pocket for a moment, then held out what appeared to be a small, delicately crafted wheel; not that it would actually turn, but it held the same small power as any one of the many badges you'd collected over your travels.   
  
"Thank you," you murmured, turning the emblem over in your hands and running your thumb over the bumps and valleys in the design for just a moment before pocketing the small thing- ‘the wheel hunter's badge,’ as it had been engraved in the back- and glancing back up at Alfred, who was possessed with an energy unlike anything you'd ever felt from him. His mouth was still stretched into a wide grin as he looked up at the moon, eyes wide and practically glowing.   
  
"Ahh, I feel my master's hand at work. Praise the good blood!" He shouted up to the sky, before focusing his attention back down to you. "Let us cleanse these tarnished streets, good hunter. It has been an honor, but I must say good-bye." He turned away from you, gripping the invitation in his hand as if to convince himself that he was not dreaming and, in fact, his long-awaited victory was finally within reach.   
  
"Farewell, Alfred," you called after him as his feet decided to move and take him off to the vile domain of Cainhurst Castle. He called after you as he always did, even as his golden curls disappeared around the dark corner.   
  
"May the good blood guide your way!"  
  
— 

  
You'd barely had a moment to adjust to the throne room again before you were hit with the smell of something you were all too familiar with. Flesh, intestines, blood, something burning too, perhaps; you supposed the stench of a regular killing was no hindrance to you anymore, but this acrid odor was so strong it plastered itself over your tongue and coated even your throat. You gagged and covered your mouth, stepping away from the horrible scene before you.    
  
"Master, look! I've done it, I've done it! I smashed and pounded and grounded this rotten siren into fleshy pink pulp!" Alfred was standing in front the of the queen's throne, triumphantly holding his wheel over the place where she had once sat. In her place was, as Alfred had indeed so proudly proclaimed, a pile of what truly could only be described as he had put it: 'fleshy pink pulp.' Even still, it seemed to pulse on the velvet cushion, squeezing out the last drops of blood from the mincemeat Alfred had beat her body into.    
  
"There, you filthy monstrosity! What good's your immortality now?" He sneered and slammed his foot down onto a stray shred of flesh. "Try stirring up trouble in this sorry state! All mangled and twisted, with every inside on the outside, for all the world to see!" His crazed laughter burrowed itself into your ears, growing longer and longer after each sharp inhale. You finally stepped forward, daring to tap your finger on one of his blood spattered shoulders. You'd barely pulled your hand back before he whirled around to face you.    
  
"Ah, you! My friend, look at this! Thanks to you, I've done it! Well? Isn't it wonderful?" You nodded dumbly, at a loss for words, and not sure what response to give him. The stillness of the throne room was gone, but you didn’t know what had replaced it. Alfred, of course, had no mind for such things.    
  
"Now Master can be canonized as a true martyr!" He cried, turning back to the queen's remains. "I've done it, I have!!!" Even under the gold executioner's mask, you could feel his wide, unhinged smile as his laughed echoed around the throne room yet again. You took a step back, feeling for the handle of your weapon as you crept backwards to the lamp. Of course Alfred would be excited, but the bloodlust could creep up on anyone. Perhaps another dream would find you a saner Alfred, back at the executioner shrine in Yharnam, warmer even though his victory was found in the snow.    
  
_ May the good blood guide your way _ , you wanted him to wish you, for old time's sake, but there was nothing to send you on your way except for the crazed, boisterous laughter filling the hall.    
  
—    
  
The graveyard was as quiet as when you'd first stumbled into it. The candlelight from the shrine offered very little terms of light cast over the stones, and it was rather unpredictable, as a light breeze caused the flames to flicker this way and that. You paused in the open archway, your eyes focused on the back of the same crouched figure you had met there. The endlessness of the night made it seem like it had only been a few minutes ago, that you had first made his acquaintance.    
  
"Alfred?" You stepped forward, and you were allowed to come to a slow, quiet realization. Not crouched, but sprawled out in front of the altar. Blood leaked from underneath him, leaking into the cracks of the cobblestones and staining the crushed grass. You walked towards him quietly, as if moving too quickly could disturb the dead that now did truly rest underneath the gaze of the ever vigilant statue.    
  
You crouched next to him, turning over one arm and holding it gently . The blood had soaked through his coat and his glove, staining the pale fabric permanently. When you set it down, the candlelight flickered over towards you, illuminating the dark red on the palm of your glove. You looked up at the altar, at the ragged cloth, cracked tomes, and empty place in the middle of the shrine, streaks of red trailing down to the bottom. No more dreams.    
  
You reached into your bag, talking the crown Martyr Logarius had left behind. You wiped your thumb over one of the jewels, Alfred's blood wiping off on the ornate topaz in the center and falling into the creases in the molded gold. You set it down on the cloth, looking up at the statue, then the body, still stationed devoutly before it. In the end, you could leave it as you'd found it, with just a few touches of the journey you'd gone on because of it.    
  
You turned away from the scene, pausing in the doorway and glancing back at it all. The crooked gravestones lining the cobblestone path were placed in such a way that you found it hard to believe anyone had really been buried underneath the road, but now they could stand guard over the one person who had found their final resting place there. A small, wistful smile tugged at your lips, and you knew it was time to go.

  
"May the good blood guide your way."    
  



End file.
